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ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD 577
She had too much spirit for that. Have we ever said that our little
friend was exempt from the prejudices and vanities of this wicked
world 1 Well, to rescue Philip, to secure the fatal bill, to go with
it to Charlotte, and say, " There, Mrs. Philip, there's your husband's
liberty." It would be a rare triumph, that it would ! And Philip
would promise, on his honour, that this should be the last and only
bill he would pay for that wretched old father. With these happy
thoughts swelling in her little heart, Mrs. Brandon made her way
to the familiar house in Thornhaugh Street, and would have a little
bit of supper, so she would. And laid her own little cloth ; and
set forth her little forks and spoons, which were as bright as rubbing
could make them; and I am authorised to state that her repast
consisted of two nice little lamb chops, which she purchased from
her neighbour, Mr. Chump, in Tottenham Court Road, after a
pleasant little conversation with that gentleman and his good lady.
And, with her bit of supper, after a day's work, our little friend
would sometimes indulge in a glass—a little glass—of something
comfortable. The case-bottle was in the cupboard, out of which her
poor pa had been wont to mix his tumblers for many a long day.
So, having prepared it with her own hands, down she sat to her
little meal, tired and happy ; and as she thought of the occurrences
of the day, and of the rescue which had come so opportunely to her
beloved Philip and his children, I am sure she said a grace before
her meat.
Her candles being lighted and her blind up, any one in the street
could see that her chamber was occupied ; and at about ten o'clock
at night there came a heavy step clinking along the pavement, the
sound of which, I have no doubt, "made the Little Sister start a
little. The heavy foot paused before her window, and presently
clattered up the steps of her door. Then, as her bell rang—I
consider it is most probable that her cheek flushed a little—she went
to her hall-door and opened it herself. " Lor', is it you, Mr. Hunt ?
Well, I never ! that is, I thought you might come. Really, now "—
and with the moonlight behind him, the dingy Hunt swaggered in.
" How comfortable you looked at your little table !" says Hunt,
with his hat over his eye.
" Won't you step in and sit down to it, and take something ?"
asks the smiling hostess.
Of course, Hunt would take something. And the greasy hat is
taken off his head with a flourish, and he struts into the poor Little
Sister's little room, pulling a wisp of grizzling hair, and endeavouring
to assume a careless fashionable look. The dingy hand had seized
the case-bottle in a moment. " What ! you do a little in this way,
do you ?" he says, and winks amiably at Mrs. Brandon and the
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